


Feeling Like I Never Should

by wheremyinhalerat (bearsquares)



Series: But in my dreams we're still screaming [1]
Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: 1960s, Adult Losers Club (IT), Anal Sex, B-Movies, Bisexuality, Childhood Friends, Dissociative Amnesia, Double Vaginal Penetration, Emotional Sex, First Time, Frottage, Menstrual Sex, Mentions of Underage, Multi, Oral Sex, Other, POV Alternating, Past Child Abuse, Polyamory, Public Display of Affection, Recreational Drug Use, Retcon, Shotgunning, Vaginal Sex, bookverse, briefly being gaslit by a clown demon, gazebo use, implied OT7, richie and eddie cussing each other out is really good, there is a lot going on here omfg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-05 06:48:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12185001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearsquares/pseuds/wheremyinhalerat
Summary: Three friends met one day in the summer of 1968. It was a time of flux and uncertainty, but for a moment, they remembered who they were, and they remembered love. Even though they deserved this mercy, they could never escape the course set for them. It was their fate to forget and their condition to lose.(Recently reworked because I like to polish my turds.)





	1. The Fool

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first smut rag for IT. I recently cleaned it up and reformatted a few things, so it will look a bit different to repeat readers (I love you, repeat readers). So, uh, yeah this was the beginning of the end for me. RIP, self.
> 
> If you're into this sort of thing, I make playlists to keep me in a somewhat appropriate head space. Here's the one I usually listen to when writing the late 60's/70's young adult stuff:
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/racereff/playlist/0mjeMIgNb7iT6P7Ks27wZQ?si=fSXD-YThRJOPb5Qk_HZ2pA

 

 

 _What a waste_. Richie Tozier tapped his pencil reflexively against his chin. _What a waaaaaaste._ He was growing restless; his knee bounced up and down under his desk. _Goddamn waste of a beautiful fuckin' day_.

Richie had changed very little since boyhood. He was taller now, filled out a little, and his hair was a bit shaggier. But his mind still burned at an overwhelming pace and his mouth made every effort to keep up. The most noticeable change was the absence of his cursed coke-bottle glasses. He discovered contact lenses - early in the soft lens game so they weren't cheap, but they were worth it. The world finally had a clear view of his expressive, fox-like face while he talked himself into broadcasting and out of ass-kickings.

Countless seconds ticked away and Richie wagered he could have punched a hole up through the middle of the table with his twitchy knee. The clock finally, mercifully pointed to 5 o'clock. He could leave. He could finally fucking leave.

The sun lavished him with real, honest-to-god daylight when he burst out of the office building. Gone were the dusty books and dank carpeted hallways! Richie had re-entered the world of the living and, like a disembodied choir of angels, he could faintly hear Aretha Franklin belting _"_ _FREEDOM"_ over and over. He was getting all the freedom he could handle now, whether he liked it or not.

Richie’s relationship with his parents had a nice, slow decay going over the years. It got to the point where he could barely speak to his mother, which, of course, affected his relationship with his father. Richie was convinced his parents couldn't stand him, so he did what he always did when he was hurting: Voices. They sent him off to college to make something of himself and he discovered radio instead.

His mom’s phone call wasn't a nice familial chat; she sounded more like a debt collector. _“You’re not taking your life seriously, Richie.”_ The hall phone in his dorm had seen better days. Her voice had a bizarre, reedy undertone that reminded him of a scarecrow. _Mooseblowers_ , he thought with a wry chuckle. _“Well, I'm glad you think it’s funny,”_ Maggie Tozier snapped. _“Your father and I decided,”_ she sighed. His mom always sighed when she was annoyed. Richie often theorized about his mom's ruthless, blood-thirsty tendencies - all of those swears she kept in check. She was probably a werewolf. _“Do whatever you want, but you're on your own now. That's just how it has to be.”_ He wouldn't understand why she was so frustrated with him until 1975.

Richie told his mother he understood. He hung up and then packed his bags in silence. Somehow, he was numb to the sting of her words and the shriveling remains of love he felt from his parents. Years of practice at keeping his guard up, he supposed. _What the fuck is a mooseblower?_ The random thought made him burst into giggles. Whatever it was, one of his friends from when he lived in Derry had one _. Someone from Derry._ There were six of them, he recalled. A deep, almost fierce love for them surged up inside of him. Richie didn't feel things like that very often, but he did, apparently - six times. He couldn’t remember their names but he loved them.

Derry was dirt cheap and he found a summer job keeping books for a law office. Five bucks an hour set him up fine. He had an apartment for 40 a month and lived pretty plainly. If he could manage to work through the summer without blowing his brains out, he would be set for another year of college. That was a big _"if"_ because he had another two months of this monotony. _But_ , he thought with some relief, _not for another few days_ . It was Friday. He had _time_ again. He'd probably spend his entire weekend jerking off and sleeping - rinse and repeat - but it was still his time.

Even though he was working a job he hated, it was temporary. And even though he had stupidly trapped himself back in Derry, it was summer and he'd try to make the best of it. “Pull up, sprog,” he muttered, trying for Australian. “Yer ain’t off ya rocka’ whistlin’ _Waltzing Matilda_ yet.” Richie wrinkled his nose. "Terrible."

He began muttering various words to himself, varying inflections, and trying to shape his tongue around them. People ignored him, which was fine because he was _working_ while he talked to himself and he wasn't about to waste his breath explaining it to anybody. Hell, he needed something to occupy him while he walked the same path every damn day. It was a mile’s walk back to his place in the summer heat and it felt more like traversing the Arabian Desert than a small town sidewalk. That day was particularly hot. Richie wanted to get home as soon as possible but his thirst was overwhelming and the drug store, the soda siren, was calling to him.

 

\--

 

Beverly Marsh didn't like the idea of going back to Derry. Life outside the town where she grew up was clearer and just _better_ . In her mind, Derry was a memory or a bad dream, but the nervous tensing in her gut when she thought of going back was unmistakably real. Her memories of the place were like Polaroids scattered here and there. Some were clear and focused - _six boys and one crackly radio -_ some were blurry and dark - _black water, teeth, blood, so much blood._ Beverly had to shut her eyes tight, dizzied by unwelcome thoughts that pulled her back too deep. She didn't want to go back but she couldn’t refuse when her mother called her the week before.

Elfrida Marsh had always been a bit rough - roughed up by her life, her work, her husband - but she cared. The motherly care to the fatherly worry - they were perfectly matched in that respect. Good things were there, but they were unreliable, sometimes twisted. Beverly was reliable and useful to other people, but she was dishonest and twisted in her own way. Growing up with two emotionally repressed parents and a town full of detached, lying adults created that monster.

_“Your daddy is up in the hospital, Bevvie. I love you. Hope you’ll come see us.”_

Beverly's relationship with her father was strange, tense, and full of blanks. She put so much away. What she could remember about Alvin Marsh's complete psychotic break was enough.

There was a period after 1958 when she and her mother were on their own. Her aunt moved in with them while her daddy was _"sorting it out"_. Aunt Beth lived a kinder life than Elfrida. Beverly thought that it was because Beth never married. She never had to take care of a man, or listen to one, so she could do what made her happy. Beverly couldn't think of what made her mother happy. If things had been different, perhaps she could have been the one to hand down her mother's skill with a needle and thread, but it was Beth instead. She taught Beverly to sew - first simple things like pillows, then skirts and dresses. She took to it well, mastering button-holes, pin-tucks, gathers, and invisible seams.

 _“Men are a pain in the neck,”_ she once muttered to Beverly while they pinned the squares of a quilt. _“They lay it on real thick ‘til they get what they want. Never met one worth my time after shacking up with ‘em.”_

It was cathartic to live with a woman who was honest. She spoke about sex as something akin to driving a car: it could be fun, it could be dangerous, not everyone was great at it, and there was a lot of responsibility involved. It wasn't bad and she wasn't bad for thinking about it. The shame Beverly internalized as a child was almost forgotten in those years. She was not a burden, she was never made to feel guilty for running, never pressured to return to her broken home.

Mom hadn’t even asked her to come back, she hoped. Tears blurred her vision, filtering Derry back into her memories through a soft-focus lens. _You didn't want things to change, did you?_ She felt a sob creeping up into her throat and swallowed it back. The twisting in her gut worsened. Beverly clutched her duffle bag to her chest, hissing in quiet pain at the pressure on her sore breasts. Her womanly pain begetting pain - always. The bus hit a pothole, jostling the dull pain thrumming away in her guts. Every time she cramped she could feel the old wounds - bruises, scar tissue, stress fractures, her rotator cuff - day after day for nothing. _Mom wanted to help me - how could she?_ Sweat gathered at her temples. It felt like her body was failing, crumpling up like tin foil.

She wanted to throw up.

The bus stopped.

 

\--

 

The bus carrying Eddie from Lincoln back to New York decided to break down in Derry. _What luck_ , Eddie thought miserably. He believed the universe wanted him to die, there was no other explanation for getting marooned in _fucking_ Derry. After the week he had, Eddie was surprised his bronchial tubes hadn't caved in and ended his suffering.

His mother had called him two weeks ago and sent him on a hellish pilgrimage to insanity. He was on his own for the first time in his life. He had a job and an apartment, but he hadn't yet arrived at having a social life. Sonia Kaspbrak was Eddie's _"social life"_ . She could no longer control him in person, but she did a great job over the phone. This time, it was guilting him into visiting his aunts. Oh, how she cried. She cried and Eddie had to do it because _"Dolores is very sick, Eddie, and she may not survive the year."_ Dolores had liver cancer, and he could sympathize with that. But there were two other aunts, both well enough to ask him intrusive questions and con him into rearranging their ancient furniture. Being a single young man surrounded by elderly women was like being held at gunpoint and they soon had him begging to pull the trigger himself. _At least they didn’t pinch my cheeks,_ he thought before taking a hearty puff from his inhaler.

The town looked the same for the most part. He felt a deep, lingering hate in his gut followed by a faint nostalgic fondness. He couldn’t rightly place it, but it was a small comfort in his current situation. He had people he cared about from Derry, people with whom he had endured horrible things. They almost went crazy - racking his memory was dangerous. There were things he couldn’t remember for a good reason, but he couldn't help his frustrated curiosity. _Who were they and where are they?_

Eddie shook his inhaler again. He pulled the tiniest puff of medicine from the nozzle. _Of course it runs out now._ He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying like hell to stay cool in the face of his growing panic. Just being around his relatives led him to deplete his supply of medicine; two inhalers in one week. _This is how I go - dead from an asthma attack in Derry, Maine._

“My goodness, are you _okay_ , young man?”

An older lady was peering into his row from her space in the line of passengers filing off the bus. She was wearing some godawful candy striped house dress.

 _No, I’m not fucking okay,_ Eddie thought. He wheezed a bit in spite of himself and gave her a tight nod so she would leave him alone. Once the aisle had finally cleared, Eddie gathered his small bag up in his arms and exited the now smoking bus.

The engine was in its final death throes, belching oily exhaust into the air. The fumes were strong enough to knock him out and probably give him cancer so he buried his face in his sleeve and ran. Holding his breath was like swallowing gasoline and chasing it with a lit match. He hurried up the block until he was upwind enough that he could choke on some comparatively fresh air.

There was no way he could survive this cold-turkey. There had to be a pharmacy - there was. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to call up his outdated, garbled map of Derry. He caught a brief memory of knocking an ice cream soda to the floor of Mr. Keene’s office. The glass shattered across the tiles and Eddie felt like breaking apart with it. Eddie remembered then. His impeccable sense of direction kicked in and he stumbled in the direction of the pharmacy. If the old man was still alive, he could probably get something to tide him over.

Mr. Keene was indeed still alive. He was older, definitely blinder. Keene blinked slowly behind his glasses, watching as Eddie struggled to speak.

“Well goddamn me,” he said at last. His voice still had that dry, unnerving rasp to it. “Kaspbrak.” Eddie nodded, about choking, and wondered if Keene was going to keep on with this Lassie bullshit. “Well, boy, you don’t look so good.”

Eddie reached one trembling hand into his pocket and produced his empty inhaler. The plastic hit the countertop with a loud _CLACK!_

Keene raised his bushy grey eyebrows. There was a moment of silence; Keene watching, Eddie waiting. His eyes were obscured behind a large pair of glasses but Eddie knew he was looking him over, judging him. “Wait here,” he finally muttered.

 _Sure, I can wait. Take your goddamn time,_ Eddie thought bitterly. He bent at his waist and took a sharp breath inward through the pinhole in his throat. Somewhere back in the drug store, he heard laughter - a young couple, probably. It sounded familiar - braying, almost manic, laughter, then a reserved chuckle that broke into light giggles. They sounded so happy. Eddie always got jealous seeing couples but the faceless lovers gripped his heart in the strangest way. He relaxed enough to get a good bit of oxygen back into his lungs.

“It’s hard to break old habits, Eddie.” Mr. Keene had returned. He slid the inhaler toward Eddie like it was a heroin needle. It was the same label as the aspirators from his childhood - HydrOx. He could still taste the camphor on his tongue.

Eddie fixed him with a cold look. “Thank you.” He tried to look dignified when he snatched it up, uncapping and inhaling in one deft maneuver.

“Do you need anything else?”

 _Aspirin, Tylenol, eye drops, Sucrets, fucking One-A-Day vitamins._ “Yes,” Eddie said under his breath.

He scowled at the worn down carpet while the old man stuffed his entire medicine cabinet into a white paper bag. Eddie paid the man and made for the door. His face was burning with anger, _humiliation_ . Keene was a man with disappointment whorling around behind his thick glasses. _Well, thanks a lot, pal, I'm disappointed in myself, too,_ Eddie thought. He darted behind a row of shelves to escape the subtly reproachful gaze of his childhood drug provider. In his fuzzy, unpleasant memory, Keene wouldn’t let him leave _._ No, Eddie didn't know about placebos at eleven, he needed to know he was being lied to. He up and forgot about it; it was easier to keep his ma happy that way. It wasn't like he had anyone else.

Eddie shook his aspirator, already embarrassed by its frantic, ear-splitting clattering. He honked in a deep breath of medicated vapor.

Eddie rounded a corner and noticed a woman his age standing at the opposite end of the aisle. It was her hair that stood out - short, fiery curls, framing her face perfectly. Eddie had thought about touching and running his hands through hair like that before. Ma never let him watch movies with Elaine Stewart in them for a reason.

She noticed him staring and something that looked like recognition dawned in her lovely hazel-green eyes.

At first, he had no idea why she was looking at him with her eyes lit up like Christmas. Eddie glanced around, sure that there was someone behind him who _didn’t_ have a paper bag full of enough medicine to split between several people. There was no one. When he looked back, she was motioning wildly to someone out of view. It felt like his brain was a camera lens coming back into focus. They were there and he _was sure_ he knew who they were. A young man poked his head around the shelf next to her and gawked at him - _god, what a shit-eating grin_. Eddie’s heart was thudding in his chest, but he could still breathe. He was breathing fine, actually.

“Eds!”

“Don’t fucking call me that, Ri-” The name didn’t even pass his lips before he was swept up into a tight embrace.

Remembering him hit Eddie like a tidal wave. Richie still smelled like his house. Eddie remembered reading comics and fudging through games of poker; they placed their bets with orange Pez and smoked candy cigarettes. They did the stupidest shit together.

“You're kidding!” Eddie cried, muffled by the loud checkered shirt pressing against his cheek. None of it felt real and his heart was about to burst. He swept his hands over Richie's much broader back up into his dark, shaggy hair. His hair had been lighter, a bit coppery, when they were younger. Richie briefly tightened the hug before letting go.

Richie, _fucking Trashmouth Richie,_ snapped to and held Eddie at arm’s length. It made him feel like a kitten picked from the litter. Richie looked kind of handsome now that his glasses weren’t eating his face. “By gawd, look at this here sweet lil’ thang,” he exclaimed in a deep South twang. “Bless’is heart, he smells like the tractor done died in the field-”

Eddie screwed his face up - somewhere between annoyed and elated, biting back hysterical laughter. Before he could hurl a well-aimed insult back at him, the girl - Marsh, she was Beverly Marsh - fondly swatted Richie’s arms away. “Beep-beep, Richie.”

Eddie remembered her being taller; she had to stoop a little to wrap her arms around his shoulders. That was years ago. They were finally the same height and his arms fit perfectly around her waist. He felt a dull ache deep down, recalling his shy, almost reverent love for her. “Oh god, Bevvie,” he sighed against her hair. In any other situation, he would have been shaking like a leaf, but she was one of them, always had been, and he loved her. They all loved her.

Beverly gave him a quick squeeze. She was braless underneath her cotton top. Eddie tensed at her breasts flattened against his slight chest. Some part of his brain insisted he'd felt them before, which he shut down immediately. That was a great way to end up with a boner in the middle of a drug store. Richie was watching them - a lopsided grin cut his face and he raised his eyebrows suggestively. Eddie blushed, jerking his hands away from her hips as if she'd burned him.

She pulled away. “We missed you so much, Eddie.” She still had a dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks, her pointed chin.

He took a deep breath and stepped back. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

That collective _you_. There had been others, but they weren’t there. But Beverly was, and so was Richie. Eddie felt something he hadn't felt in years: love.

 

\--

 

Beverly’s entire body was restless. She felt light-headed, still in disbelief. As Richie and Eddie walked out in front of her, she felt an urge to pull them both back into her arms. She wanted to confirm they were solid, that she wasn't dreaming, so they wouldn’t separate again. Richie's voice brought her back.

“So, sorry to ask the obvious question, but what brings you two back to this cursed heap of a town?”

“The bus I was on shit the bed,” Eddie replied flatly. “Which is why I smell terrible.”

“Oho! Not trying to take joy in your engine-smoke related death, here, but -" Richie clapped a hand on Eddie's shoulder. “The bar has been lowered and I am no longer the smelliest.”

“That's cause you always went running into sewage and never changed your socks,” Eddie said.

Richie threw his hands up. “Well, good thing I don't have _time_ to go play in other people's shit anymore!”

“Remember how Stan always smelled really good?”

Eddie and Richie stared at Beverly for a second, then shared a knowing, smug look. She recognized that look as a signal for a rare moment when the two of them would go in on someone.

“When were you _sniffing_ Stanley, Beverly?” Richie sounded like he was very subtly channeling a teenage girl.

Eddie snickered. “Is that why you always tried to walk next to him?”

 _Come on, we’re adults, this is ridiculous_. She was above their teasing, but color rose to her cheeks, anyway. “It wasn’t my fault you two never wiped your asses well enough.”

“Beverly MARSH!” Richie was hysterical, clutching at his heart as if he’d been stabbed. Their antics drew concerned and disgusted looks from random passersby. They began giving the three a wider berth on the sidewalk.

“For the _record_ , Beverly, I’ve _always_ kept my butt clean,” Eddie insisted, trying and failing to keep a straight face. Richie was completely unable to speak, wheezing his laughter against Eddie’s shoulder.

Between breathless giggles, she remembered a time when she actually smelled worse than any of them.

_My father chased me for miles and I had to crawl through shit and filth to get away because he would have killed me._

She hesitated, amusement fading from her face. Bumping into Richie was such a welcome distraction that she had forgotten why she came to Derry. She had forgotten that she was miserable.

 

_He caught her crouching on the floor cramping up like hell, clutching a huge box of tampons. It must have looked absurd. For a moment, she thought it could have been any of them and she remembered each of their names._

“This’ll be so embarrassing if you don't recognize me,” _Richie said softly._ “You can hit me if you need to.”

 _His voice was deeper, but Beverly couldn't forget the way he talked when they were kids: quick, expressive, ready to veer off in any direction. She expected him to seize the opportunity to get off a good one on her, but Richie squatted down next to her and rubbed gentle circles across her back. They made eye contact. She managed a pained smile._ “I always need to hit you, Trashmouth.”

 

Eddie sniffed. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, Bev.” He gave her a candid smile, always somehow finely tuned to others - her especially.

“Okay, hear me out. I gots an idea.” Richie could change a conversation topic at a funeral if he wanted. “There’s a double feature at the Aladdin later-”

Eddie looked surprised. “It’s still there?”

“Yes," Richie muttered at him before prattling on. "No idea what they’re showing, but it’s cheap as hell if you guys need to kill time.” Though focused on Eddie, Richie took Beverly’s shoulder bag by the strap and hefted it over his shoulder. If he couldn’t make a joke about it, he just didn’t say anything. She smiled.

“Are you asking us on a date, Richard?”

He replied with a stern “Yes, Edward.”

They looked to Beverly for a _"yes"_ , like her express permission could make or break their entire evening. It felt like the old days again. She didn’t look very motherly in her cropped top and high-waisted shorts rolled too far up her thighs. But she placed her hands on her hips and sighed. “I suppose, but you’d better behave this time.”

Richie held up a hand and crossed his fingers. "Ohh, I promise.” She bopped him on the arm and he grinned.

 


	2. On My Knees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heavy petting here.
> 
> Originally part of the next chapter but I decided to split them? Made sense to me, idk

 

 

The same odd collection of people (plus a decade) were still there. The building itself could have been in worse condition, but it wasn’t quite as nice as when they were kids. They were probably too young and easily distracted to notice back then, anyway.

“Three of you?” The ticket window lady, still kind of gross-out ghastly, was eyeing them critically. They almost couldn't blame her; it looked like they'd come to camp out with two overnight bags between them.

“Last time I checked, dollface.” Richie shuffled their pile of quarters through the window slot, looking more like a gambler than a smart-shit office clerk. Eddie and Beverly fought back giggles as the lady stoically slid them their tickets. “Thanks, babe.”

Eddie punched him in the middle of the back. He had almost fully reverted to an eleven-year-old. “We can’t take you anywhere, Richie," he hissed.

"I take you on a date and this is how you act," he replied, shaking his head. "No way I'm asking you up for a nightcap." Eddie whacked him again.

Beverly was starting to backslide as well, and dragged Richie inside by the front of his shirt. “I’ll buy you some Twizzlers if you just stop talking for 5 minutes,” she said.

“Yes ma’am.” Richie looked over his shoulder at Eddie and whispered, "I’m not gonna share.”

Eddie squinted at him, the corner of his mouth twitched. “Candy is so gross now, man. Twizzlers taste like plastic.”

“Oh, right, sorry I forgot you were 1,000 years old. Too sweet for little grampa.”

“Fuck you!”

They settled in the once coveted balcony section. It was hard to get seats up there back in the day - too many make out-crazy teens and kids who liked to smoke. It was a real waste of a good view, in Eddie's opinion. The theater was empty now. Most theater-goers were one room over, seeing _Rosemary’s Baby_ or something. Eddie could deal with campy horror films, but psychological thrillers about demonic pregnancy were not his idea of a good time.

The first film turned out to be _The Mummy’s Shroud_ . Beverly griped about how she had to see it by herself last year. None of her girlfriends wanted to go with her so she had no one to laugh at it with. Eddie had only seen bits of it, so he half-paid attention to the plot while Richie and Beverly cracked jokes back and forth. They made a game of pointing out which _"Egyptians"_ were white people with darker makeup on, balking at how stupid it was. Eddie eventually got bored and joined them in trashing the movie.

“He could'a just _walked_!” Richie cried as the credits rolled.

Eddie crossed his arms, pretending he was deep in thought. “Man, that was dumb."

"What do you expect from Hammer Films, fuckin’... _Citizen Kane?_ ”

“Wow, harsh,” Eddie muttered.

“Oh, I’m sorry, are they here?” Richie leaned over the edge of the balcony shouting, “SORRY YOUR MOVIE SUCKS!”

“Will you sit down, Richie?” Beverly yanked on his untucked shirt. “You’re gonna get thrown out!”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Oh no, please, don’t take Richie.”

Richie allowed himself to be pulled back into his seat, giving Eddie one of his fake angry faces. Eddie stuck his tongue out. _Oh god, I’m regressing, too._

The film ended _(thank god_ ) and the next one started right on its heels with no gap in-between. Beverly squirmed in her chair next to him. The Seven Arts production screen blared at them.

“The hell is this?” Eddie whispered.

“It’s British, Eddie,” Richie called loudly across Beverly’s lap, startling him a little.

Eddie stuffed a finger in his ear, leaning in front of the other half of Beverly. “WHAT?”

Beverly gently pushed them apart. “Will you two cool it? I swear to god.”

Roddy MacDowell was stumbling over a bunch of rubble shouting and the word _It!_ smeared across the screen in blocky yellow letters.

Eddie felt a pang of anxiety and fumbled for his aspirator. They fell completely silent, listening to their own heartbeats while random, strange things came raging back to them. He couldn't explain it - it was irrational - but if they were having the same reaction, he couldn't have been completely out of his mind.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” Beverly mumbled, rising out of her seat and squeezing past Eddie. His guts knotted up when she moved in front of him, and he knew that feeling was hers. She disappeared downstairs before they could speak.

An unspoken pulse of dread had passed between them, one they hadn’t felt for a long, long time. They said it so many times because it was all they could think of. There was no name for something so awful. _I had so many nightmares...so many fucked up dreams._ Eddie shut his eyes, his breaths coming shorter and tighter. _Too young for it._ It wasn’t just his chest that felt terrible. Bile rose in his throat. _I didn’t do that - we didn't -_ Eddie felt his palms itch and he shook his wrist as if he’d touched something disgusting. A shudder passed through his entire body and god, he didn’t want to fill his mouth with HydrOx just because he saw a single word - he pulled the trigger anyway. As he held it in, he noticed Richie staring quietly down at his clenched fists, digging his nails into the center of his hands. His smile was humorless.

He exhaled.

 

\--

 

Beverly didn’t throw up, but she spent a while braced against the stall door staring down into the toilet. She wasn't going to vomit down here.

She told herself ran because she didn’t want to puke her guts out in front of them, but her stomach was turning _because_ of them. A horrible, unwelcome feeling had surged forth inside of her and she couldn’t be near Richie and Eddie. Too many pieces fell back into place seeing that one tiny word, being with _them_. She saw monsters, the twisted look in her father’s eyes, and the grime-streaked faces of her friends.

Sharp pain flared in her abdomen and her knees buckled beneath her. Beverly slammed her back against the frigid stall door and began to cry. Everything hurt - her cramped up body, her miserable heart, her mind that wouldn't stop racing.

 _You dreamed it,_ she told herself. Then, in a voice that wasn’t entirely her own, she thought, _or did you?_ “What did I do?” She said aloud, voice wavering. “I don’t know what I did.”

_Yes, you do. You know EXACTLY what you did._

She remembered she didn't see their faces, she felt them. The boys - she felt each of their cheeks resting against her palm.

_Yes, them. That's what you did._

She covered her mouth to muffle her sobs, sinking to the grimy floor. _That wasn’t real._ What they did - what _she_ did in the tunnels wasn’t real.

“You don’t know that, Beverly,” the voice chided against the stall door. Her blood froze. _Oh god, oh god._ “Goodness gracious...all of them?”

 _It didn’t happen_. She whimpered, tears soaking her cheeks.

“How _old_ were you? Lord, look what you did to them, _slutchild!_ You FUCKED them.” Its hateful voice rose to a shout and it slammed - _something_ slammed into the stall door. "Look what -" _BANG!_ "YOU!" _BANG!_ "DID!" It began to shriek, "SLUT! YOU SLUT!"

Beverly covered her ears and screamed, “I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!” Her scream echoed, then the bathroom plunged into silence. She only heard the quick breaths she sucked in and the rapid beating of her miserable, miserable heart.

After a moment, a woman’s timid voice asked, “are you okay, miss?”

“Yes, I’m sorry,” she replied. Her voice was robotic, practiced neutral. “Not feeling well.”

“O-okay.” The bathroom door banged shut.

 

\--

 

“Jesus Christ, MacDowell is such a ham.” Beverly heard Richie groan as she trudged up the stairs.

“ _You’re_ one to talk.”

Richie parroted MacDowell’s voice. “Oh, dear boy, you see, now I’m going to have to kill you - how dreadful!”

Their banter was cold comfort.

She sat back down between them, still full of weird, incoherent thoughts. The other two quieted down and watched at her carefully. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything or look at them. Eddie wrapped his soft hand around hers. She made to withdraw, but he laced their fingers together and held her still in a surprisingly firm grip. Richie took her other hand. He uncurled her fist and gently traced his thumb across her palm as if checking her for an injury.

“It was a bad dream, Bevvie,” Eddie murmured.

“We had it, too,” Richie added, squeezing her hand.

“I’m sorry-”

Eddie cut her off. “You can’t be sorry for something you never did.”

“We’re not gonna let you,” Richie said.

“Okay,” she whispered.

They sat in silence while the characters on screen argued and carried on, agonizing over murder and god knows what else. Beverly agonized over her twisted mess of emotions while Eddie and Richie held her hands. They were protective of her, maybe they always were. But she didn't deserve their attention and the safety she felt with them. She was angry at her guilt and her filthy sexuality she was never supposed to develop. Beverly Marsh had to stay a little girl, and when she couldn’t, she was punished. All she felt was shame over something she couldn’t control. All Beverly could do was punish herself again and again - hate herself, seek out love that wasn't love at all. But she had known love before, and some cruel act of God took that away from her, even her memories.

The few memories she had were twisted nightmares. She woke up covered in sweat, breathing hard, knowing she had done something shameful to people she loved. Sometimes they looked like adults - as close as she could picture them - but sometimes they didn’t. She never understood why she had such odd want for them. It was perverted and she was sick for the way the thought made her feel.

She was sick for wanting all of them.

Beverly looked over at Eddie, his profile still mousy but now more angular. Grey light from the screen flickered across his straight nose and thin cheeks. His flaxen hair was combed to the side away from his face, longer than when they were kids. He noticed her watching him and timidly met her eyes, then swept his gaze down to her thighs. She felt him rubbing the pad of his thumb across her knuckles. _Eddie came to her first, whispering “I can’t, I don’t know how…”_

_God help me._

Beverly took a sharp breath inward and leaned forward to press her lips against his shaky, curious smile. The demure little gasp that escaped him made her cross her legs a little tighter.

In a lot of ways, it was like a first kiss. Eddie was a little nervous and wooden at first, his brain moving quicker than his body would allow. But whatever bond they had years ago clicked - Beverly felt it - and he found his footing. His eagerness for her became overwhelming. She placed her free hand against his face, the muscles in his jaw moving beneath her touch. He twisted a hand into her hair, tentatively dropping his mouth open so she could flash her tongue against his. He tensed so beautifully for her. She disentangled her hand from his - he was gripping her so hard - and cupped his other cheek, mumbling encouragement against his lips. Eddie leaned into her, boldly licking at her tongue and kissing her harder.

She remembered Eddie's mother telling her to stay away from her son, and how she down at her, disgusted. Beverly was old enough then to know what that look meant: she was a slut - and eleven-year-old _slut_ . A slut would discolor her pure boy, like blood on snow. But Eddie was as curious as Beverly, sometimes more. One summer day in ‘58, a day where it was only the two of them, they came across an old porno mag at the dump. Eddie was flustered as expected, but he wouldn't drop the subject. He made a big deal about how Richie and Stan hid spank mags in their rooms and he'd never get away with something like that, his mom would lay an egg. He was eager to crack the rag open but looked to Beverly for permission first. She blushed fiercely but agreed. They squatted over the magazine like archeologists unearthing delicate artifacts, never picking it up, flipping the pages with a stick. Neither of them wanted to grow up too fast, even when strange and fascinating _adult stuff_ encroached upon their childish sensibilities.

They were alike in a lot of ways - terrified and fascinated by sex. Beverly felt that same mixture of emotions from him now. She had raging hormones to contend with, though, and their light fooling around had her ready to break. Her fingertips strayed down to his lap, over the bulge in his pants, and his hips jerked a little. An unexpected growl worked its way out of him - _what a response_ , she thought. Eddie was a sweet person, and never hid how he cared for her, but Beverly knew they weren't kids anymore. He excited her now, she wanted more of him, and he could give her more, he could _do_ more. And she wouldn’t feel guilt.

Eddie swallowed hard when she gently squeezed and stroked over the outline of his erection straining against his fly. She wondered if she could get him off just like that and if he would fuck her if she asked him to. He caught her by the wrist after a few seconds.

“N-not here, Bev." His voice came in a shallow whisper, the beginnings of a wheeze under his breath. “I’ll cream my jeans.” _Easy for you, Eds_ , she thought. Her panties were a total mess and he would only have a wet dab against his briefs after a short and sweet fondling. That wasn't so bad. She would have preferred he bust one down her throat, anyway - grab a handful of her hair and shove himself all the way back, making his cute little whimpering noises.

But she reeled back the wicked part of her that wanted to see him come loose for her. “Raincheck?” Beverly drew her hand away from his pants and cupped his jaw, kissing him slow and hard. He moaned something like a _"please"_ , strained like he was already teetering on the edge of cumming right in his pants.

She then felt Richie's lips against her bare shoulder, his tongue brushing over her skin, tasting her like an animal. Unlike Eddie, Richie never gave a shit about how old or young he was for anything. He would keep straddling the line between "kid" and "adult" for the rest of his life. Richie saw her as a girl right away but he never excluded her because of it. The others seemed unsure of how to treat her at times, but Beverly never felt that uncertainty from him. They got bad ideas together. They misbehaved and rebelled in very similar ways. He was her partner in crime.

The realization that he had been watching her with Eddie was a fucking electric current up her spine. Beverly reluctantly gave Eddie a last gentle brush of her lips on his before she turned to Richie, who was all tongue and teeth when he voraciously kissed her. He wasted no time in sliding a hand up under her shirt. A breathy gasp tore out of her when he rolled her nipple between his fingers. Her breasts already sensitive from her period and she felt his touch down to her knees. She started thinking about him doing this with other girls - years of heavy petting leading up to him driving her crazy in an old movie theater seat. There were no other girls in their little group and it was a shame; she would have gladly shared her boys - shared herself.

Beverly felt his mouth curve into a proud little grin against her neck, as he brought her hand down to his lap. He was fully hard and she knew he would not say no to getting jerked off in an empty movie theater. His cock was bigger than Eddie's, too. _Would he mind,_ she thought, _if I got his ass on the edge of his seat and rode him like I fucking stole him?_

He stopped. “You guys wanna come back to my place?” Richie appeared calm and casual like he was asking them over to listen to vinyls and play Clue. Beverly heard the hydraulic gasp of Eddie's aspirator and found his free hand. Her heart was in her throat but she nodded. Richie smiled and slung her bag over his shoulder.

They left in unspoken agreement while Jill Haworth sighed “ _Just go home and sleep it off.”_

The monster probably got destroyed in the end, anyway. _Oh, but isn't man the real monster? Har-dee-fuckin'-har,_ she thought wryly.

 

\--

 

Walking all the way back to Richie's apartment while fighting to control a boner was an ordeal. Eddie realized he'd never felt real sexual tension before that night. It was something people talked or read about, but the real thing was horrible and stifling. _Either that or everything feels like an asthma attack to me now._ It didn't help that Richie and Beverly couldn't keep their hands off of him - or each other for that matter. He watched them in his periphery, passing a cigarette back and forth, bumping shoulders, lacing their fingers together. Their flirting didn't surprise him, though. Eddie was having more important thoughts now - thoughts about wanting both of them deep down in his gut. That and the potential for it to happen the second Richie’s apartment door swung shut. Sexual tension was a terrible thing indeed.

But it was better than the Derry-induced trepidation he could be feeling instead.

They were walking past Memorial Park now and it made him shudder. Eddie wasn't sure how Richie could stand living in such a sick, haunted town again. Maybe he hadn't yet remembered why it was terrible. Eddie wasn't sure he remembered very well himself.

“Almost there, Eds. You okay?” He asked, looking laid-back for once in his life. It reminded Eddie of their friend Stan for a minute - except there was a cigarette between his lips. Eddie sniffed at the air. It smelled _nothing_ like tobacco.

He wrinkled his nose. “What is that?”

The cigarette flipped upwards when Richie grinned widely. “You _really_ wanna know?”

Eddie made an offended noise. “Not _really_ , it smells like a skunk fart.” Richie threw his head back and cackled. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Here, cool it for a sec.” Richie stopped and put his hands on either side of Eddie's face to hold him still. He made to pull away because Richie was _entirely_ too close to him. “Stay still, man. You don't want me to fuck this up -” Richie's mouth closed over his. Beverly gasped. Eddie yelped and dropped his bag at his feet. He blew smoke right into Eddie's mouth - down his throat! It felt horrible, and he wanted to cough up his lungs, but Richie was basically kissing him, which felt pretty good, actually. But he was still mad as hell. Richie pulled back and coughed. Eddie dissolved into miserable hacking while Richie patted his shoulder, clearly proud of himself

“Did you just get me high, you asshole?” Eddie rasped. “Am I high?” He felt light-headed, but he couldn’t tell if it was because of mind-altering drugs or kissing another man.

Beverly frowned at Richie, then draped her arms around Eddie's shoulders. “Oh, Eddie..." She sighed and kissed his cheek, still high as a kite, and it went straight to his dick. “That was mean, Richie.”

“I’ll make it up to you.” Richie Tozier winked.

Eddie socked him in the bicep as hard as he could.

 

 


	3. Shot Right Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the porn. Here. It. Is.

 

 

There was a moment of awkwardness after the door to Richie's apartment swung shut. He slid the chain lock into place without a word and they stood in a little hesitant triangle. Eddie didn’t want to initiate, it wasn’t his style - not that he had one.

Beverly cleared her throat, noticeably more reserved, but still at ease with the two of them. “Um, can I use your bathroom, Richie?”

“Down the hall and to the left.”

She rolled her eyes, smiling wanly. “Of course it is.”

Eddie placed his small, overstuffed bag by the door. He realized he hadn’t washed in hands in hours and it was seriously starting to bug him. “Hey, I’m gonna go use your si…” His voice died in his throat. Richie was halfway out of his pants, stripping down to his underwear. It wasn’t like they never ran around in their undies as kids, but Eddie couldn’t stop himself from looking away in embarrassment. Richie was such a peaky kid - not as short and skinny as Eddie, so he didn't really stand out - but he had developed, to say the least. He had a lean, athletic build for some reason. Eddie doubted he ever went out of his way to do anything. Even more inexplicable, he had a farmer's tan. That was what did it. That was what made Eddie roll over and accept that he was into Richie and curious about doing things with (and to) him. Before he could stop himself, he dropped his gaze down to Richie's angular hips, then further down to his briefs, wondering what they looked like when he was har-

“My what?”

Eddie forgot.  _ His what. Find his... _ “Sink! I need to wash my...hands…wait, what are you doing?”

Richie had Eddie’s tee shirt by the hem and tugged it up over his flat stomach. He was looking down his nose at him. His wily blue eyes made Eddie feel like a frightened rabbit. “Why, Master Edward, I am taking your coat!” He scoffed in a stuffy Upper-Class English accent, yanking Eddie’s shirt off in one smooth motion. “And your trousers, and your... _ unmentionables _ .” He deftly worked the belt open and Eddie was mortified, hoping Richie wouldn’t actually try to take his briefs off. “Smashing, my good fellow!”

“Alright, alright, lay off,” Eddie shrunk back, holding his belt together with one hand. He shuffled away from Richie as quick as he could. The apartment moved a little too fast and he found himself in front of a messy kitchen sink, wondering how he got there. “Fucking Richie - goddamnit,” he cried. "That son of a bitch got me high!"

The act of scrubbing his hands, even if it was with dish soap, calmed his nerves enough that he could think straight. He wasn’t just about to have sex, he was about to have sex with two people. Granted, if there were two people he  _ would _ ever do such a thing with, it would be Beverly and Richie, no contest. But he hadn’t even fucked  _ one _ person yet.  _ Oh god, I'm about to have sex.  _ Eddie looked down at himself; pale, skinny, a patchy stripe of dark blonde hair under his belly button.  _ How the hell _ , he thought,  _ can this stupid shitty body handle anything like that? _

By the time Eddie had mustered the courage to go back into Richie’s scrimpy living room, he found it empty. The apartment was tiny, though. He peered around the corner into Richie’s bedroom and found him sitting next to Beverly on his bed. Eddie groped at his pockets, searching for his aspirator.

"I want to." Her voice was low and she was blushing. “I'm just... bleeding down there right now. It's gross.”

Richie, in a rare display of honest affection, tucked her hair behind her ear. “I don’t care.”

“But-”

“No, no, no, Bevs,” he tutted. “You have needs, I have needs, and god knows Eddie has some fucking needs-” Beverly blinked owlishly at him. Eddie nearly choked mid-inhale. “Some blood you can’t help isn’t gonna change any of that. A bunch of feminists at my college shout at people about this stuff all the time. I mean, sex is actually supposed to help with the pain, right?”

She was staring down at her hands clamped between her thighs. “Yeah, but...a-are you sure?” Eddie fixed him with a gaze that begged the same question.

“Scout's honor.”

“You were never a fucking boy scout, Richie,” Eddie piped in. He felt like a goddamn feather, but he wasn’t too far gone to stop calling Richie on his bullshit.

“Is it too gross for you, Eddie?” Beverly asked, her voice shy and uncertain. He swallowed hard, knowing full well he would probably never say no to her - he  _ couldn't _ .

Eddie would have preferred losing his virginity without bloodshed - and the thought of it kind of freaked him out. But he’d spent the last several hours holding himself back from them and that felt much worse.  _ It’s not like we haven't smeared blood on each other before, anyway. _ “You’re not gross, Bevvie.”

“Edward, be a dear and help the young lady out of those tight little pants.” The stuffy English gentleman was back. “I fear I may tear them off if this continues.”

Eddie knelt obediently in front of her when she stood up. He popped the button at her waist open. He shimmied the tight denim down over her hips. She was so soft.

"Oh, no, be careful," Beverly moaned. Eddie peeked up at her; Richie was removing her top. "I made these and forgot to go back over the edges, so they're not-” Her voice was muffled against the cotton. Eddie was about to laugh but the elastic top shifted away and her breasts slipped into view. His mouth dropped open.

“Th-that’s amazing," Eddie breathed, mesmerized. He couldn't look away from her chest. “I-I mean, that you make your own clothes.”

“Also her tits, Eddie,” Richie added. He carefully laid her top over the back of a chair as he spoke, giving Eddie a knowing look. “Our Bevvie  _ is _ a genius, though, you’re right.”

Eddie went bright red and Beverly chuckled, swiping a hand across her eyes. “Will you kiss me again, Eddie?”

It felt like the deciding swing at the end of the fucking World Series. Eddie stood from his kneeling position even though he was screaming inside. He managed to keep his voice steady. “Yeah."

She smiled, closing her eyes and placing her hands behind her back. Eddie forgot what kissing was. He took a shaky breath, slammed his eyelids shut, leaned forward, and pressed his lips against hers. Beverly immediately licked into his mouth and it occurred to him that she wanted to pick up where they left off.  _ Right, I’ve done this before. Stupid Richie. Thanks for getting me high, asshole _ . Beverly took his hands by the wrists and placed them on her breasts; they filled each hand perfectly and  _ fuck _ they were soft and Eddie was  _ done _ . His lucidity flickered on and off for a bit. All he could think about was girl parts - touching girl parts, not being afraid to touch them, not feeling guilty for touching them -  _ wanting  _ to touch them.

Beverly grabbed his ass with both hands and Eddie jolted in surprise. He realized she had worked his pants open and scrunched them down around his thighs. She swayed her hips into his. The heightened sensation of touch was driving him crazy. "I'd let you do anything to me, Eds," she mumbled. "Anything, man." His body seemed to react on its own and,  _ sweet Christ _ , he started grinding his cock against her hip. He didn't know how to do anything, but what a thing to say to a virgin who hadn't even tried yet.  _ What rabbit hole did I fall into? _

Eddie kept fondling her tits, feeling her stiffened nipples rubbing against his palms. She sighed into his mouth, and her hands were stroking his hair and his chest and his arms and he was embarrassingly hard. He could feel the heat between her legs without even touching her. He didn’t have the wherewithal to reach down and push her panties aside, but he told himself he should’ve. He should have touched her where they stood.

“I think Bevvie should be on top, what about you, Eds?”

The thought alone, the inevitability, made him dizzy. "On t-...on...top...?"

Beverly once again brought him back to the world of the living. “Do you want to?” It was the silliest question anyone had ever asked him - he couldn’t even find a good reason to respond so he nodded. She gave him an encouraging smile and pressed their foreheads together. “We’ll take care of each other, okay?” His nerves uncoiled at the sound of her voice, and what he felt from her - was she nervous? Eddie took her face in his hands and kissed her mouth.

“You two are  _ so _ cute,” Richie snorted from his reclined,  _ stark naked _ , position at the end of his bed. Eddie shot him a glare and tried not to look at his sizable cock, hard and resting against the smooth curve of his hip.

Beverly pushed him back onto Richie’s bed, having him scuttle back against the pillows. He didn’t protest when Richie pulled his pants and briefs the rest of the way off. His cock was out and pathetically hard - but their darling Bevvie left no room for embarrassment or uncertainty. She was straddling him before he could think.

His pants were off and  _ her _ panties were off and he was on his back.  _ How do I deserve this? How the fuck did I get here? _ Beverly was sitting just on his thighs so his cock was resting against her mound. Her slim fingers traced around the head and down the sensitive underside. He was ready to jump out of his skin because he had never been touched like this, never, ever, in his life. Eddie was begging to be inside of her before he could stop his mouth.

She bent down and brushed her lips against his cheek. Eddie blurted something incoherent, to the effect of  _ “Iwantyousobad.” _ She grinned, then kissed him one last time before he gave himself over completely to her.

Beverly sat straight up. Richie tilted her mouth to meet his. He reached down and ghosted his fingertips over Eddie’s erection before guiding him into her. Eddie made some kind of desperate yelping noise and dug his fingers into her hips. He watched his cock disappear inside of her. Her kinky, coppery hair meshed with his blonde curls and he would have been glad to die seated fully in her heat. Eddie knew the second she started riding him and bouncing those perfect tits, he would be struggling not to shoot one off right away.

Instead, Beverly rocked her hips, moaning sweetly while he clutched at her thighs. The short, gentle strokes around his cock were plenty to drag him right to edge. It didn’t help that he had fixated on Richie's thick erection rubbing against her waist. He was holding her still while he sucked and lapped his tongue against her nipples.  _ She likes that a lot _ , Eddie thought dimly. Her hot mouth fell open and he saw a hint of Beverly’s pink tongue while she gasped. Her tight, wet heat was perfect and overwhelming at the same time. But Richie was fucking distracting her. Eddie squeezed her thighs and started jerking his hips up, in and out of her. She groped at Eddie’s hands, now moaning and crying " _ yes, yes - don't stop!” _ He was making her feel good, not hurting her, and he was so fucking glad because he loved her so damn much.

Richie trailed his hand down between her legs and began teasing her clit, watching Eddie fuck her with a look of calm fascination. He looked right at Eddie; his voice was thick, still smug and mischievous. “Make Bevvie come for us, Eds.”

Eddie’s entire body clenched and released and his vision exploded into white. He was half-aware of Beverly crying out breathlessly on top of his cock while he shot his cum inside of her. His head swam for a moment and he grinned like an idiot. She was rutting down on his still hard length, riding out the rest of her orgasm and gasping ecstatically.

“Holy fucking shit,” Eddie was in a euphoric haze - they had come together.

Beverly stilled her hips. She leaned down and smoothed his hair back from his forehead, gently kissing him there before chastely kissing his mouth. “I love you, Eddie.” It gripped his heart, like her words, her acceptance and love for him were what made it beat in the first place.

“Love you too, Bevvie.” He sat up to kiss her cheek. She shifted forward and pulled off of him. Losing their connection felt miserable.

Richie gave a low whistle. “Don’t look now, Eds, but I think you killed something with your dick.” Beverly snorted.

“Beep- _ fucking _ -beep,” Eddie grumbled.

Richie's calloused hands moved to Eddie’s narrow hips, tracing over his awful angles, then down between his thighs. It felt different from Beverly's small soft hands, he liked it, but his touch was gone. Eddie glanced down and saw Richie stroking Beverly’s milky thighs, feeling her up, grabbing handfuls of her ass. His cock looked painfully hard, pre-come already beading at the tip. "Uh..." Eddie tried to swallow but his mouth had gone dry.

Richie guided himself in with a low groan, taking Eddie's place in her slick cunt. Beverly sighed against Eddie's cheek. She kissed him and began rocking on her knees back against Richie's cock. He wore a delirious, fiendish expression like he’d always wanted to fuck her from behind and  _ the cat got the cream, you bet your fur. _

Beverly’s face was fucking immaculate; she looked ready to come apart all over again. He met her open, panting mouth with his, hoping to god he’d never forget how either of them looked. The sound of Richie’s hips slapping against her ass while he took her had Eddie getting hard again.

“Wait.” Beverly stopped moving; Richie looked like he was about to scream. She reached between them and took Eddie in her hand, stroking him down from the tip, watching his face with her darkened eyes. He muttered an " _ oh fuck" _ . “I want you both," she said. "At the same time.” Eddie didn't know what she was talking about, but he wasn’t about to bring everything to a screeching halt.

Richie’s eyebrows were drawn together in thought. He then nodded, business-like. “Sit up, Eddie.”

Beverly straddled Richie’s lap, his cock curving up between her thighs. He could finally see where she’d bled on them, stained their pubic hair red - not that it made much of a difference for Richie. For a moment, he wasn’t sure how to process any of what he was looking at. He’d seen a girl's parts before in books and pornos and stuff, but nothing as nice as Beverly’s. If it weren’t for the blood, he might have tried to kiss her there.

Eddie let Beverly guide his hips toward them until he was sitting on his ass, sack-to-sack with Richie - probably the weirdest thing they’d ever done. Beverly took both of their cocks between her hands. The thought left his head and he was completely overwhelmed by touch. He didn’t even know this was a thing.

“Richie,” Beverly whispered, her breath hitched up.

He reached around her and replaced Beverly’s smaller hands with his own - he only needed one. Eddie swore fiercely under his breath, feeling the underside of his erection sliding against Richie’s while he meticulously, perfectly stroked them together. His hand wasn’t rough, but it definitely wasn’t as soft as Eddie’s whenever he jerked himself off. It was different. He fucking loved it. He felt his chest tense, warmth starting to roll up from deep in his belly. Eddie, now blushing, glanced up at Beverly. He was hoping for a kiss or  _ something _ , but she was staring mesmerized at what was going on right between her thighs. She was biting one of her reddened lips, pure want clouding her sweet, heart-shaped face. She wanted them both. Eddie finally figured out what they were about to do.

“Will it hurt you?” He asked suddenly, shakily. Seeing her hurt was one of the worst feelings he could remember.

She smiled, caressing his cheek with her knuckles. “I’ll be fine, Eddie.”

 

\--

 

Richie was starting to edge himself closer and closer to coming. He couldn’t take much more with the promise of fucking both of them at once right there in front of him. Eddie’s skinny cock fit perfectly in his hand with his own and he wasn’t prepared for how incredible it felt. He hooked his free arm around Beverly’s waist and pressed his cheek against her shoulder. He was so close to both of them. It was a strange feeling, almost alien, so near satisfying the profound emotions he harbored for the people he forgot.

“Ready?” He murmured against her hair, pausing to kiss her cheek. “Eds?”

“Yyyyup.” His eyes were closed like he was dreaming, and his head tilted back, exposing his delicate throat. Eddie Kaspbrak was beyond fine.

_ "Fucking finally _ ," Richie hissed guiding them both into her. He didn't expect the tightness and jerked his hips upward. Eddie stifled a cry and Beverly squeaked. He could only hear his own shallow breathing, his heart beating wildly, blood pulsing up to his ears.

Beverly's thighs quivered as she lowered herself onto them. Richie grabbed her hips, holding her steady and guiding her onto their cocks. They were breathing hard together. Richie held Beverly back against him while she hugged Eddie against her chest.

“Oh my god, oh my god -” She was whimpering, stroking Eddie’s hair and arching her back - so gorgeous, too good for any spank mag.

She started working her hips around to get them further inside, then sat. The three of them gasped and groaned together. She started moving, drawing both out just a tad and sliding right back down. A cry tore out of Eddie and Richie was clinging to the few shreds of self-control he had left. They were dying wrapped in her heat, still wet from when Eddie came inside of her. He felt like he was going to suffocate and die before either of them got off. Eddie’s cock twitched against his and he got so, so close.

“Fuck, this is good. Fuck,  _ fuck, _ ” Richie babbled against her hair. God, her hair - soft and fiery and curling around his jaw. He needed her to finish - he needed Eddie to finish - it wasn’t his style to be the first one finished. Sheer sensation overload threatened to break him.  “You feel so fucking good.”

She was bucking on top of them, almost crying in her ecstasy, and he felt Eddie come against his cock with a dry sob. Richie met her thrusts as well as he could but his hips were erratic.  Beverly went rigid and grabbed desperately at Eddie and Richie, and he could hear the smile in her high gasps, chanting “ _ I love you, I love you, I love you both!" _

At that moment, he felt rare, pure happiness. Just being with two people he loved who loved him back. This had never happened to Richie Tozier before, he had never admitted that he needed love but he did,  _ god _ , he did.

Richie’s senses exploded and he came hard, pulsing against them both with satisfying finality.

The three were still for what felt like forever, tangled and sweating, still connected. Their breaths were perfectly in sync.

Beverly was the first to move, pulling herself off of them. Eddie felt a bit of their hot cum spill out of her onto his thighs.

“Oh, no!” He cried in a shocked, defeated little voice. He then noticed the reddish handprints in various spots all over his body. “ _ Jesus! _ ”

Beverly hid her face, apologizing profusely. One of her hands darted between her legs and she leapt off of the bed. She looked absurd shuffling down the hallway. Richie huffed his stupid laugh before sliding into a surprisingly accurate John Wayne impression. “Take ‘er easy there ‘n buck up, pilgrim. Man's got a duty to shed blood for God and country.”

"Oh my god! Beep him!" Beverly cackled from the bathroom.

“You are so full of shit, Richie!” Eddie shook him by his shoulders, threatening to cry from his laughter.

Beverly shook with mirth and sat next to them. Her body was flawless, even with the bright red smears between her legs. She nudged Richie with her elbow. “Hey. Are you two gonna  _ duke _ it out?” They burst out laughing.

“Shit! Bev got off a good one,” Eddie wheezed. He sounded tired.

“Thanks, I'll be here all week,” she said.  


_ God, please, _ Richie thought. It stung knowing they may never be together again after that night. He could have done this forever - gladly. But it wasn't how things worked with them. None of them could be together for long.  


 

 


	4. Final Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're good boys. Good, good boys.
> 
> Oh yeah, porn.

 

 

Beverly Marsh was reeling from the fiercest emotional whiplash of her life.

The night before, they had crammed into Richie's shower together and then piled onto his bed in their underwear like it was a sleepover. She dozed off snuggling against Eddie's neck. Richie was spooned around them, holding them both. She fell asleep feeling both of their heartbeats on either side of her. She didn’t want to give that up. She felt so safe. It was so  _ right _ .

Then Eddie told them he had to leave.

His cheeks had a reddish color to them, looking more frustrated than embarrassed. He always went a little red when he got upset since he was so pale.

Beverly looked pathetic when she burst into tears. She tucked herself inside of the shirt Richie had lent her - so big it came down past her butt. There was a lump white turtle weeping on the edge of Richie's bed, hiccuping and snuffling. She started wiping her runny nose on her wrists because she didn't want to get it dirty. She wasn't thinking, she just didn't want to cry in front of them - she felt so stupid. She hated her stupid period and her stupid emotional bullshit problems.

Beverly Marsh was tough and fearless because she had to be - she would have been dead if she wasn't - but she always knew that the people she loved wouldn't be with her forever. It scared her so deeply and made her so angry that she ran from it until she had no choice but to confront it.

She ran from her parents, both capable of love but too corrupted in their own ways. She felt abandoned, like her trust in them had been abandoned, and that feeling would never leave her. There would always be a big missing piece because they were gone in their way.

Then her friends were gone. She left a few of them behind but it felt like she lost them one at a time because she loved each of them. They told her they loved her one day - the day with the matches and the smoke when she cried so hard because Mike looked ready to keel over and she thought Richie was dead. It was some kind of love she didn't understand because they were so young, but it was the best feeling she had ever known. They  _ all _ loved each other.

Maybe that was why she lost them.

Beverly was wrong for loving them the way she did. She was wrong for growing up and wanting them the way she did.

“I'm so...so sorry,” she hiccuped. “I'm...I sh...I shouldn't be like this.” She ducked her head further down into the neck hole of Richie's shirt. "Th-this is bad - I'm bad for this, Eddie, I'm so sorry." Losing any of them a second time was threatening to break her in half.

Richie held her while she cried, resting his chin on top of her red curls. Eddie was leaning against her shoulder, his arm curled around her waist. They let her fall apart against them for a few minutes, holding her between them.  _ Together. _

“Bevvie, dear - I can count my favorite people on both hands and you're one of them.” Richie's voice was strained when he spoke, but she knew he was smiling. “If you're bad, then I should be in prison.” He kissed the top of her head and it nearly broke her heart. “Eddie is the worst of all, though. I'd say he's probably Satan-”

“Richie?” Eddie's voice was muffled against her shirt.

“Yes, pet?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Beverly laughed between hiccupy sobs. She let Richie pull the shirt back down around her neck. He tilted her chin so he could kiss her cheek and card his fingers through her hair, combing the tangles back into place. She almost began crying again when Eddie wiped her face clean with a tissue.  _ I don't deserve any of you _ .

Eddie studied her face for a moment. She wanted to hide again, but his gentle brown eyes kept her still. He looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, “you deserve love, Beverly Marsh.” He kissed her.

She wrapped her arms tight around his neck and pulled him close. He tucked his arms behind her waist, pressing gentle kisses across her chest and collarbone. "I love you, Eddie."

He was on top the second time, one arm hooked under Beverly's knee while he thrust into her. Eddie curved into her perfectly, and each stroke nudged her closer to her breaking point. Richie was lying next to them, kissing their cheeks and shoulders and mouths. She watched his jaw moving, watched him shove his tongue into Eddie's mouth. Beverly thought about taking both of them the night before, how complete they were.

Eddie broke away from him. “I'm… I'm getting close,” he rasped.

“Me too, Eds,” Beverly murmured. “Come here.”

Eddie flattened himself against her, pounding into her as deep as he could. She threw her head back and yelped with each stroke, rolling her hips to fluidly meet with his. “Jesus, Bevvie-” He choked out. She wrapped her legs around his slim waist, pulling him in tighter. "God, you're killing me," Eddie breathed against her shoulder. "Don't stop."

She kissed Eddie hard when he came.

Beverly half-expected Eddie to take a moment, but he propped himself up on his left elbow. He pulled out right to the tip, then snapped back inside, shallow-thrusting her over the edge. The head of his cock felt so perfect only just inside of her. She was in a haze, happy to be drunk on both of them. Richie licked a wet stripe of saliva across her palm and wrapped his hand around hers, jerking himself off, matching the cant of Eddie's hips. She still didn't understand their love. She didn't need to.

Every last bit of tension snapped out of her at once. Beverly gasped, languidly arching back against the mattress while Eddie panted above her. She ran her free hand through his sweaty hair, memorizing his sweet, gratified face. He almost collapsed on top of her. She held him to her breasts, resting her sore legs on either side of him.

Richie, now blushing scarlet, looked somewhere close. His eyes were shut tight in concentration and she couldn't look away from him. Eddie noticed as well. He heaved a reluctant sigh and pulled out of her. Beverly moaned as he did, still a little euphoric and loving how Richie's cock felt in her hand - steely and sleek. Eddie crawled over her and knelt next to Richie. He put a stop to the jerky and desperate strokes, pushing Richie's hand away. Beverly smiled at his disappointed moan and kept rubbing circles under the tip, now leaking slick precome. Eddie bent down and licked him right up the middle against her hand.

Richie was awe-struck, uncommonly speechless.

The satisfied look on Eddie’s face was equally rare and wonderful. He finally shut him up - it must have felt like a major award, a Nobel Prize in Shutting Richie The Fuck Up.

Beverly leaned over to whisper in his ear. Eddie looked back at her with a mixture of uncertainty and admiration. Richie remained puzzled, huffing uneven breaths, still reeling from Eddie actually putting his mouth on his dick.

"Y-yeah," Eddie mumbled. "I can do that."

"Do what?" Richie said thickly.

Beverly met his dazed stare with a sly smile. She dipped her head down and kissed the head of his cock. Richie bit back a helpless little moan while she pillowed him against her tongue and lapped slow up the shaft. She glanced up again - cheeks flushed, hands fisted in the sheets.  _ Perfect _ . Beverly slipped an arm around Eddie's neck. Richie's sharp blue eyes went wide when Eddie mimicked her licks, and even wider when he took him into his mouth. "Jesus  _ Christ! _ " Poor Trashmouth was already unraveling between the two.

Eddie came up for a breath and Beverly kissed him messily, tasting precome on his tongue. Richie’s needy cock twitched beneath them. They took turns sucking him off and caging him between their tongues while Eddie put gentle pressure on his balls. Richie was a stuttering mess.  _ I bet Bill sounds like this when he's getting head _ , Beverly thought as Richie's cock hit the back of her throat.

“F-fuck. Shit. I-I’m gonna -” He gasped as Eddie swallowed him down to the hilt. Richie bucked his hips, whimpering as he came into his mouth. Beverly etched the image into her mind: Richie, completely spent, and Eddie, bending back down to lick him a few more times, delighting in his yowls of half-hearted protest. “He’s trying to kill me, Bevvie!” Richie whined.

Eddie sat up, wiping his mouth against his wrist, seeming to bathe in Richie’s vulnerability. “You big baby."

“Silence! I’ll damn you to hell, succubus!”

Beverly yawned and snuggled up next to Richie, hugging his waist to hold him still. Eddie crossed his arms.

“A succubus is a girl, idiot,” Eddie said.

“And such a pretty g-”

Beverly cut him off smartly, placing a finger against his lips. “Beep-beep, Richie.” She kissed the tip of his nose. He pouted. “Huh. Guess we can’t spoil you like  _ that _ anymore.”

"Wha - oh, come  _ on! _ You're a couple of villains."

Eddie spooned himself behind Beverly, one arm wrapped around her waist. “Seriously, you’re going off the rails.” He rested his scruffy cheek against her shoulder, exhausted. His heartbeat slowed against her back and she thought he might begin snoozing.

“Psst. Eddie,” Richie whispered. He pinched his cheek, ignoring Eddie cracking one reddened, murderous eye open. “Why can Bevvie call you Eds and I can’t, huh?”

“She’s prettier than you are - also, I'm about to rip your fuckin' hand off.”

He squawked, feigning offense. “I mean, you're  _ right _ , but-” Beverly blew a raspberry at him. Richie’s face turned flat and sullen. Eddie dog-piled, sneering and flipping Richie the bird. “You never  _ did  _ quit, did you?” He said solemnly.

Eddie scrunched his nose up. “Quit what?”

“Being cute.” He winked and Eddie went even redder, swatting at him and only managing to smack his hair. “And so  _ feisty _ !”

Beverly began to laugh in earnest. “I love you guys.”

They pulled her close against them, kissing her cheeks. "Love you too, Bevvie,” they said.

 

-END-

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was exhausting to write and I basically had to wrench it out of my brain so I could get back to my life and responsibilities. WOO.
> 
> I had a couple of problemos with IT (after a recent re-read) and I tried to work through one of them by writing this hot garbage. I'm frustrated with how poorly polyamory is handled in basically everything. The Losers Club is such a fascinating dynamic and it’s made perfectly clear that they’re all very close and interwoven while still having unique relationships with one another. I love those ensemble casts! I eat that shit up! BUT! I retconned the fuck out of The Worst Chapter and made it NEVER ACTUALLY HAPPEN. It just poops all over it because of a...metaphor.
> 
> They legitimately had the option to get all of their hang-ups and tensions out as adults, so there’s no excuse and it’s in the trash now.
> 
> Aside from being a rarepair around here, I really like the dynamic of Richie, Eddie, and Beverly because they have such an intense friendship in the book. The 2017 movie mostly skipped over it (which is fine, they unfucked a lot of other things and I am very thankful for that bless) but Richie basically brings her in (and falls in love with her) while Eddie has a uniquely supportive attachment to her (mom foil, also pretty girl). IMO it adds a really interesting, complex layer to the boys' relationship. I took extra care to mature the bond along with the characters - for smut purposes, but still. 
> 
> Also, holy SHIT Beverly doesn’t just have to be with Ben and Bill. She's poly for fuck's sake. It’s okay to do other things and I’m just over here going nuts.
> 
> EDIT:
> 
> I wrote some meta involving Bev's relationship with both lads to some degree. It's a more deliberate explanation of how I read them? Anyway...
> 
> Richie & Bev: http://bearsquares.tumblr.com/post/175446758297/richie-in-a-ditchie-bevvie-on-the-levee
> 
> Richie & Eddie: http://bearsquares.tumblr.com/post/173524435947/on-reading-edwards-sexuality-its-okay


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